


Couch Therapy

by Kestrel337



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Domestic, Multi, No plot just fluff, OT3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-31
Updated: 2012-12-31
Packaged: 2017-11-23 03:45:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/617723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kestrel337/pseuds/Kestrel337
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scenes from the heart of the home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Couch Therapy

**Author's Note:**

> I don't make any claim to owning any of these characters. No disrespect is intended, and no money is made, through this writing.

Every home has a heart, a haven within the haven, where the occupants come to renew and regroup. In 221B Baker Street, that place is not in the kitchen, or in front of the fireplace, or the in bedroom. It surrounds the brown leather couch. 

*******************

Following a chase, it’s usually John sitting a few inches from the arm-rest of the couch, with Sherlock sprawled across the cushions. Sable curls fan out over John’s thigh, vining around stroking fingers until those quicksilver eyes finally close. John will pick up his e-reader, Lestrade will sit on the floor to watch Top Gear or football or a documentary while they wind down, his cheek pressed against John’s opposite leg. John’s free hand will feather through jet and silver in turn until it settles and stills between their heads. Then Greg will lean back to pluck the e-reader from slack fingers, mute the sound on the telly, and listen instead to the beloved slumbering breaths above him.  

*******************

After a more mundane workday, it’s often Greg at the end of the couch and John on the floor, Sherlock in the opposite corner with _Chemistry World_ or _Forensic Magazine_. The doctor will massage Greg’s feet, working his thumbs into the tired arches and carefully stretching each joint in turn. Greg will sigh, and moan, and praise John’s talented hands until Sherlock huffs jealously and burrows his toes under Greg’s thigh. Then the older man will wax rhapsodic about Sherlock’s fingers.  He will put on his best cheerful-presenter voice, expounding on their “balletic grace”, “elegant length”, “deceptive strength” and “uncanny skill”. Sherlock will snort and give Greg poisonous looks until everyone bursts into giggles and John says they are both ridiculous.

*******************

One miserable week, when Lestrade’s “little cold” has turned into bronchitis and Sherlock’s “just a headache, don’t _fuss_ , John” is actually the onset of ‘flu, the couch becomes a shared nest of blankets, pillows, and cups of hot lemon.  John, and Mrs. Hudson when he is at the clinic, allows the sofa-nest to annex the coffee table with mugs of chicken soup and cushions to support aching legs. No-one is surprised when John goes down with ‘flu the following week. They really shouldn’t be surprised to learn that he is a worse patient than Sherlock and Lestrade combined, either.  Somehow they are, and Sherlock looses the title for ‘most impressive tantrum’ by unanimous (and completely unspoken) decision. The bed tray is a total write off, and the loss of a very nice soup mug is chalked up to collateral damage. Both John and the couch cushions make a complete recovery, so really the incident is best forgotten.

*******************

Of course, life isn’t always about soft cuddles and lazy comfort. There is a certain amount of work that simply must be done. Many evenings the only sound in 221B is the soft clicking of laptop keys as three men variously blog, research, and answer departmental e-mails. If these pursuits are undertaken hip to hip to hip instead of at tables or desks, well, they are called ‘laptops’ after all. It only makes sense to use them in accordance with their design. No need to talk about stolen kisses and surreptitious caresses. No need to mention the comfort of a deeply loved other beside you. Breathing the same air as the ones you love seems to make the information more relevant; the fingers more accurate; the petty annoyances less petty and more amusing. Each works on his own task, but they are together in the heart of their home, the safest place they know.

*******************

Mrs. Hudson has good cause for her complaints about ‘the mess you boys have made’. She’s noticed, though that although the rest of the flat frequently needs a bit of tending, the area surrounding the couch is nearly always an island of order. Which is why, after delivering a cake to the kitchen worktop, she is quite surprised to discover a veritable maelstrom of menswear surrounding the couch. Clucking her tongue as she steps from the kitchen, she plucks up the dark trousers from where they are draped over the leather back. A pair of comfortably worn jeans and some basic dress trousers are tangled and dangled over one arm. After turning out a long, lean trouser leg she folds everything into a neat pile on the seat cushion. Two dress shirts start the next pile, with the third set aside for a trip to her button box and mending basket. Shaking her head disapprovingly, she shakes out a wadded-up blue merino jumper. With perhaps a few more pats than necessary, she folds the sumptuous fabric onto the top of the pile. The remaining items – three belts and five socks- she simply lays out on the third cushion. Carefully closing her ears to the muffled cries coming from the bedroom, and her eyes to the trail of best-left-unmentionables leading down the hall, she slips out and closes the door firmly behind her.  

*******************

The furniture pieces in 221B will come and go, as need and wear dictate. Each item will be chosen for function rather than form, and perhaps for chemical resistance and durability rather than style. But the brown leather couch, while it may someday be reupholstered and its cushions re-stuffed, will forever remain as the essence of their home. 


End file.
